


i’m back from war and i brought home emotional baggage

by jayquxck



Category: Eddsworld - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Platonic Relationships, Scars, Wholesome, but he’s nice i promise, gore is mentioned, military tord, tom’s kinda a little shit, tord has scars leave him be
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-06
Updated: 2020-09-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:47:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26316676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jayquxck/pseuds/jayquxck
Summary: tord has scars. tom has questions.
Relationships: Tom & Tord (Eddsworld), Tom/Tord (Eddsworld)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 52





	i’m back from war and i brought home emotional baggage

**Author's Note:**

> im so sorry for the title 
> 
> tw; mentions of gore and mentions of military/war aspects
> 
> this is like... sorta tomtord? this is mostly me trying to get better at detail tbh but it’s not really ship like it’s more platonic than anything 
> 
> but interpret it as you please (:

Tom hadn’t noticed the scar on Tord’s cheek. 

The room was dim, save for the flashing of the TV screen as Tord rewatched his favorite movie for the millionth time. Neither of them had said a word, not even when Tom showed up and sat down on the sofa next to the Norwegian. Contrary to popular belief, they could co-exist. They still may have hated each other on some level, but they could survive and that’s all that mattered. 

Tom, however, realized they hadn’t co-existed very well until he noticed the scar for the first time. It was when Tord’s head turned to face him as a bowl of popcorn was shoved in his direction, with a muffled, “want some?” through a mouthful of popcorn. And there it was; the light made it shine a bit, the scar tissue popping out against the flashing colors of the movie. 

It was long and jagged, with a crater of sorts right above the curve of his jaw, deep enough where Tom could fit his entire fingertip into it without any hesitation. Then, the rest of the scar ran up to just about the corner of his lip (which was jagged and torn, but healed) and down to the meeting of his head and neck. It was rough, and violent, even without knowing the story and it was the sort of ‘see but don’t ask’ kind of scar. 

Tom suddenly realized why Tord was always wearing that stupid bandaid. 

Tord must’ve seen the confusion in his face and so he reeled back, eyebrows knitting together in confusion. “What? Is something wrong?” 

Almost mindlessly, Tom reaches up to trace his finger carefully along the scar and he physically feels Tord shiver before he’s shoved away. When he looks back, Tord’s face is turned away from him and his arms are folded, but Tom can’t help but ask, “...what in God’s name happened to you?” 

Tord answers quickly, almost too quickly. “I don’t remember.” 

“Bullshit.” Tom sits up. “If you’re gonna make up a lie, at least try to make it a little better than that.” Curious now, he tries to push it enough where Tord might take it as a challenge and say something. This doesn’t work in his favor, however, and uncharacteristically so, Tord doesn’t argue back. “Come on. You can tell me.” 

Tord sits in silence for a few more minutes, eyes glued on the TV. Tom thinks he’s not going to respond, and so he sighs to himself, knowing that Tord’s scar will be added to life’s greatest mysteries. Suddenly, Tord sucks in a breath thoughtfully. “Look. If I tell you, will you promise to never bring it up again?” 

“Yeah, yeah. I promise.” 

“Thomas, I’m serious.” the use of his full name isn’t a rarity, but he sounded very sincere about this, and so, heart racing, Tom nodded in agreement. 

Then, he sat in silence for a bit more, looking at the ugly carpet. The hum of the TV was the only audible sound and it was starting to drive Tom mad. Tord knows Tom isn’t going to get any less interested, and so, taking a deep breath in, he sighs and- 

“I was shot.” 

And like he was hit with a bullet himself, Tom’s breath hitches in his throat. “You... what?” 

“I was shot in the face after trying to infiltrate a rebel base in Poland.” he doesn’t make eye contact and keeps staring at the carpet, hands fidgeting. “It shattered my jaw, messed up all the teeth in the left side of my mouth and tore a big hole in the back of my neck.” he sighs. “Inches from my brain stem. Could have killed me. Almost did.” 

Tom doesn’t know how to respond at first. It seemed as if every time he tried to speak, the words got caught in the knot in his throat. Eventually, he spoke. “You almost died?” 

Tord decides that if they’re never going to talk about it again, he’ll give all the details he can remember. “I bled out real bad for a little while. Got taken to a hospital. They fixed me there, but I couldn’t eat because I had no teeth. I was tube fed for about a week until I could see an oral surgeon. I was drugged out of my mind that entire week, though.” he thinks again. “Then I got new teeth, a new jaw, and a new patch of skin on my neck. And then I was sent home.” 

“I-I’m sorry, you were in the middle of leading an army and they sent you home?!” 

Tord glanced at him as if Tom just asked the dumbest question of all time. “Well, they had to. I could barely talk, Tom, let alone lead an entire military. They promoted someone else to my position. My buddy Patryk, actually.” he chuckles to himself. “Jesus. Wonder how that motherfucker’s doing now.” 

Tom laughs nervously along with him, and watches as Tord trails the scar with his own finger, sighing a bit. “Well.. what else happened?” 

Tord now trails a finger along his jawline thoughtfully. “I got a bunch of metal screws in my mouth and it took me nearly five years to smile correctly again.”

Tom looks at him, but Tord doesn’t look back. “Tord, I-I’m sorry. I had no idea.” 

He waves it off. “It’s not your fault. Just... don’t bring it up anymore, okay? I hate talking about it.” 

“Does anyone else know?” 

“No.” his eyes dart to Tom, then back to the floor, as if he was guilty. “Edd’s seen it but he doesn’t know the story. And Matt has no idea.” 

“Shocker.” 

The two of them snicker over their own dumb joke before settling down. Tord hands him the popcorn. “Any more questions before I repress it from my memory for the rest of my life?” 

Tom thinks long and hard. “...do you have any other scars?” 

Tord tosses his head back and laughs. It’s almost evil sounding, with that Norwegian tinge in it and Tom looks at him confusedly. “That’s a story for another day, Thomas,” he says, taking the bowl of popcorn back, “it’ll take a while to get through all these scars.” 

“I’ve got time.” 

“Hold kjeft,” he says, which has become common in the house ever since Tord’s picked up the habit of speaking Norwegian whenever he doesn’t want to converse with someone else, “this is the best part of the movie.” 

“But-“

“Shush.” Tord throws a piece of popcorn at him. “All in good time, Thomas.” 

And with that, he sinks into a pillow and drowns out the rest of the world to blood curdling screams and desensitizing gore.


End file.
